


The Hunt is On

by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)



Series: Adara Birthday Celebration [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anniversary, Established Relationship, M/M, Mates, Moving In Together, Werewolf Mates, scavenger hunt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-06 03:53:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16824586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasterella/pseuds/isthatbloodonhisshirt
Summary: Unfolding the note, he read it over a few times and let out a deep sigh, rubbing at his eyes with one hand.“Dammit, Stiles.”The scariest, creepiest, most intimidating person you’ve ever met O_O“I really,reallydon’t want to visit your dad on our anniversary,” he muttered.





	The Hunt is On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adara/gifts).



> Happy Birthday [Adara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adara/pseuds/adara)!!!
> 
> Teen Wolf (c) Jeff Davis

Derek knew that dating Stiles wasn’t going to be easy. He knew that they would fight, they would get on each other’s nerves, they would say things they didn’t necessarily mean. He knew it would be a lot of arguing about Stiles staying safe, about Derek needing to let people in, about the two of them having to learn how to live with each other’s rough edges.

Derek was well aware of all of that when he and Stiles became friends. And he was _definitely_ aware of it when he and Stiles became _more_ than friends. When Stiles had come home with him one day after a particularly rough night, crashed on his bed, and somehow had never ended up leaving.

Well, no, he _did_ leave, because he still lived with his dad, but he tended to stay over a lot more, and Derek realized he really liked having him around. Despite the bickering and the frustrating, sometimes intolerable, aspects of each other’s lives that they were still learning to live with, having Stiles in his space was comforting.

It felt nice to roll over and reach out to touch a warm body instead of air. And Stiles’ scent was... he didn’t know how to describe it other than it smelled like _home_. Whenever Stiles was near him, it smelled like home. It smelled like pack, and family, and like everything he’d lost.

Derek didn’t take much stock in things that were purely wolf traits. When he’d been growing up and people had insisted he would have a mate when he was older, he’d argued it because mates weren’t real. Those weren’t a thing.

Even now, as an adult, he still didn’t fully believe in mates. He still thought they were made up, and that things like that didn’t exist. But, if he _did_ believe in them, if he _did_ allow himself to think maybe, just _maybe_ mates were a thing, he wouldn’t be at all surprised to find out Stiles was his.

From the very beginning, Stiles had been there. When Scott was bitten, Stiles was there. Weaselling his way into Derek’s life, the two of them insisting they hated one another, but somehow still trusting each other. Derek still remembered how they’d been at the beginning. All the things they’d done for one another.

Stiles had been ready to cut off his arm, despite the clear distress he was in over having to do so. He hadn’t let Derek die. He’d held Derek up in a pool, he’d comforted him when Boyd had died, he’d _saved_ him when the Calaveras had him. Stiles insisted he hated him, but slowly, he’d started warming up to him.

Much like Derek had been warming up to Stiles. He’d faced down his Alpha uncle for him, turned his back to a Kanima to ensure he ran to safety, protected his possessed body from anyone trying to harm him.

Even when they’d hated one another, they still protected each other. They could still count on each other. Derek didn’t have that with anyone other than Stiles, which was why he did, sometimes, when he was almost asleep or just waking up, when the thoughts in his mind were still hazy, sometimes he _did_ think of Stiles as his mate. As belonging to him. As someone that nobody else could steal, not even his Alpha best friend Scott.

Nobody would ever care about Stiles the way Derek did. No one would ever connect with him the way Derek did.

It was why they fit so well together. It was why Derek had learned to get used to the little things about Stiles that still annoyed him.

Like the fact that he never, _ever_ , God forbid did the damn dishes. Ever. Or that he seemed incapable of putting away his laundry. Sure, he cleaned his clothes, but he never seemed to put them _away_. More than once, Derek had opened the dryer to put his wash in there and found it full of clean clothes that belonged to Stiles. It was like he was allergic to order.

Which, Derek supposed, he might’ve been. Stiles’ mind ran on chaos, and while it sometimes drove Derek a little crazy, he understood that it was how Stiles worked. And he respected it, and supported him, because Stiles did the same for him.

Derek knew all of these things about Stiles. He knew that every day would bring about the unexpected.

Which was why he shouldn’t have been so surprised when he woke up early the day of their two year anniversary so he could make breakfast and found the bed empty.

Stiles was particularly impressive in his ability to sneak out on a Werewolf. Derek assumed it was because Stiles had been _running_ with Werewolves for a majority of his young life, at this point.

“Stiles,” Derek groaned, rubbing his face with both hands and letting out a small sigh, lying on his back in bed. He was definitely not getting breakfast today. “What did you do?”

Knowing his boyfriend wasn’t going to appear out of thin air just because he willed it, Derek threw the covers off himself and stood, grabbing his phone while padding towards the stairs in his boxer-briefs, checking his messages.

Nothing urgent had come in while he was sleeping, so Stiles likely wasn’t out getting his ass handed to him. Small miracle, that.

Still, he didn’t have any messages hinting at where Stiles could be, and when he tried calling him, it went straight to voicemail. Which was concerning, and Derek may or may not have started to panic a _tiny_ bit until he reached the bottom of the stairs and paused.

There was a plate of food on the small table by the window. He didn’t know what it was, since it was covered with tin foil, but given the syrup and butter out with it, he assumed it was pancakes. Or maybe French toast, he wasn’t sure.

There was a travel mug full of coffee, a glass of juice, and a surprisingly intricate folded note sitting on top of the covered plate of food.

Derek moved towards it a little apprehensively, looking around and waiting for something to jump out at him. This wasn’t really Stiles’ style. Sure, he loved their anniversaries—he’d insisted on celebrating _every month’s_ anniversary their first year of dating—but he didn’t usually do _this_. Derek was the one who woke up early to make breakfast, and who showed signs of affection in ways that would normally be embarrassing but somehow weren’t with Stiles.

Derek was the action man. Stiles was the talking man. It worked well for their relationship.

“Stiles?” Derek called, listening for any sounds in the loft, but it was silent. No heartbeats, no breathing, nothing. He was well and truly alone.

Picking up the folded note, it took him a few seconds to figure out how to unfold it. Once he succeeded, he sat down slowly while reading it over, a part of him momentarily worried Stiles was breaking up with him until he actually _read_ the note.

_Happy Anniversary!_  
_Eat up, Sourwolf, because you’ve got quite the day ahead of you! Now I know usually we spend anniversaries together, because we’re huge romantic saps, but you’re gonna have to work for me today ;)_  
_I have set up an elaborate game for you as a gift! It requires skill, courage, intelligence and honour! So basically, good luck succeeding without me, we both know I’m the one with all those traits in this relationship ;)_  
_(I’m kidding, I love you, you’re wonderful <3) _  
_I hope you enjoy breakfast. Once you’re done, the real game begins!_  
_You will find clue number one in the place you never want me to go. Good luck, and I hope I see you soon :)_  
_Stiles_

“What?” Derek just stared down at the letter in confusion.

Stiles’ idea of an anniversary gift was spending the day without him? In what universe was that an anniversary gift? The whole point of this was that they spent the day _together_ , doing lame couple things like breakfast in bed and snuggling on the couch watching dumb movies neither of them were fully paying attention to.

Derek didn’t want to spend the day without Stiles, he wanted to spend it _with_ Stiles! It was the whole reason they’d both booked the day off!

It took a few seconds of re-reading the note for Derek to realize his heart was pounding. Once he did, he frowned and lowered his hand, staring at the far wall and trying to figure out _why_ his heart was pounding. He could also feel his eyes burning, like his wolf was beginning to peek out and after a few seconds, he inhaled sharply.

Stiles was a genius. Derek already knew that, of course, but this just re-affirmed it.

Derek was a Werewolf. And Werewolves liked to hunt things. And Stiles was nothing if not an immensely satisfying prize at the end of his hunt.

Stiles’ gift wasn’t them being apart for the day, it was Derek able to give in to his animal side and hunt for him. Like prey.

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around,” Derek said with a small smile, turning so he was sitting properly at the table and pulling the tinfoil off his plate.

It was pancakes, as predicted, so Derek covered them in butter and syrup, uncapped the lid of the travel mug—and was impressed the coffee was still warm—and dug into his breakfast while staring at the note.

Realistically, he could probably just sniff Stiles out. It would be difficult, but he’d done it before when Stiles had been missing for a few days four years ago. Everyone knew he could do it, but that wasn’t the point of the game. Cheating would ruin the fun, so Derek figured for today, he could be human and do this without the use of his Supernatural enhancements.

Derek ate his breakfast while staring at the comment about where his first clue was. There were many places Derek didn’t want Stiles to go on a regular basis, so he found that to be a little unfair.

He didn’t want Stiles going where there was danger, he didn’t want Stiles going to the big Supernatural raves the next town over had been throwing the past few months, he didn’t want Stiles going to cemetery because of that time with the Zombies, he didn’t want Stiles going to the old Hale house because it was _really_ falling apart now.

Derek paused on his last thought, because of all the places Stiles _shouldn’t_ go, the safest by far was the Hale house. And while he was trying to make this fun, Derek doubted Stiles was going to endanger his life when he knew it would just upset him.

The Hale house itself wasn’t exactly making Derek happy, because it really _could_ fall down around Stiles, but hopefully he hadn’t ventured too far into it. And Derek knew that Stiles felt strongly about the Hale house, because Derek himself did. Most people found it weird that he liked to go back and look at it every now and then, but to Derek, it was comforting. It was where he’d grown up, it was a place with so many fond memories. It was one of those things that was hard to let go of, even though he knew he needed to move on.

Finishing up his breakfast, Derek went upstairs to change into some comfortable jeans and a shirt, knowing it was going to be a long day. Any day with Stiles always was.

Once he was ready, he grabbed his leather jacket and exited the loft, car keys in hand. It wasn’t cold enough out for the jacket, so when he climbed into the Camaro, he tossed it onto the passenger seat just so that he would have it if he needed it later. Stiles always teased him about it being more of a fashion statement than something he used for actual warmth. Derek had never corrected him, mostly because he couldn’t defend himself against that accusation.

To be fair, the jacket belonged to his father. Derek had stolen it when he’d left the house the same night as the fire. He hadn’t really gotten around to telling Stiles why the jacket meant so much to him.

Driving to the preserve, Derek parked in one of the designated lots and then made his way through a few trails before looking around to ensure he wasn’t being followed and stepping off the path. The preserve had been getting a lot more foot traffic lately, so there were often people around yelling at tourists not to step off the path. Some people still mistook Derek for a tourist, though how he had no idea, considering he was kind of a big deal in Beacon Hills, what with being a wanted murderer and all back when he’d first returned. He supposed the people who didn’t know him had shown up _after_ that unfortunate misunderstanding.

Thank God the sheriff knew about this stuff now, it made Derek’s life _so much_ easier.

When Derek reached his old house, he stood outside for a few seconds, listening for Stiles. He could smell him on the air, his scent recent but not by much. Maybe a day or so old? Whatever he’d been planning, it had been going on for a while.

Derek climbed the steps, ready to yell at Stiles later for how far in he’d gone for a game, but he paused when he reached the front door.

There was a welcome mat in front of the door. A brand new welcome mat, with a picture of Yoda on it and large letters saying “WELCOME YOU ARE” on the front.

Derek had no idea what to make of it, but he bent down to pick it up anyway, wondering what Stiles was implying. When he got it off the ground, something fell from beneath it. Stiles had probably put a note underneath and it had stuck to the mat for a few seconds.

Still holding the mat in one hand, Derek snatched up the second note, turning to sit down on the porch steps and setting the welcome mat beside him before unfolding the piece of paper.

_Where we had our ‘first date.’_

“Well that’s just mean,” Derek muttered, because he and Stiles had very different definitions of what their first date was. They’d kind of been together long before they’d officially started dating. It was part of that phase where Stiles had shown up at Derek’s house and somehow never left. While they’d managed to compromise and agree on their anniversary, it was harder when they spoke about their first official date.

Sighing, Derek stood and grabbed the mat before heading back to the car. He tossed it down onto the floor in the back when he climbed in, then figured he would just try a few places for this clue.

He went for the restaurant _he_ considered their first date to be at, but after a few minutes in there, it became clear this wasn’t the place. He figured it would be where Stiles argued their first date was, however he hung around in there for a while with the same result. Both restaurants didn’t really feel like _them_. They’d gone, sure, but it wasn’t a place they frequented, because they were both just as happy staying home and ordering take-out.

Derek wondered idly if maybe Stiles was talking about the diner, since they frequented that a lot, and maybe their first date to Stiles was legitimately the first time they’d gone out to eat together. It had been at that diner, and they still went fairly often when they both got lazy and didn’t feel like cooking or ordering takeout.

Heading to the diner, he parked outside while looking around, and then stepped through the door. It was still a little busy from the morning rush, considering it was barely nine, but a waitress noticed him and came to greet him, smiling a little.

Derek didn’t know her very well, she was an older woman with a southern accent, but she was often on duty when he and Stiles came in after monster battles or when they were feeling lazy, so he always made sure to be polite to her.

“Honey you are either way off course, or speeding through these clues like crazy.”

Derek frowned. “What?”

She laughed and shook her head. “I’m gonna guess you’re way off course. You’re not set to arrive here until closer to lunch time. Have a table reserved for you and everything.”

“Oh.” Well shit, Derek had just skipped a bunch of clues. That wasn’t fun at all.

Then again, there was no reason for him to stick around. He knew this one was coming up later, he could come back to it. If he just moved forward from here, it would ruin the whole day Stiles had obviously planned out for him, so he glanced over his shoulder at the Camaro and sighed before facing her once more.

“Thanks. I guess I’ll see you later for lunch.”

She beamed at him, as if pleased he wasn’t going to skip a few rounds to get ahead. “I’ll be waitin’ for you, honey. The usual for when you get here?”

He nodded. “Sure. Thank you.”

“Good luck.” She winked and headed off to refill someone’s coffee.

Derek turned back to the door and headed for the Camaro once more, slamming the door once he was seated. He stared at the note once more, wondering if there were any clues. He’d noticed there were quotes around the ‘first date’ part of the clue, but had assumed it was for emphasis.

Maybe he was looking at this all wrong. Maybe when Stiles referenced their first date in this note, he didn’t mean their _literal_ first date.

Derek tossed the note aside and stared out the windshield at the diner, trying to think. It had been so many years since he and Stiles had met, it was hard to think about what Stiles was referring to. Derek was under the impression he was being sarcastic, so what would Stiles sarcastically call their first date?

“Probably me asking him to cut off my arm.”

To Deaton’s it was.

Derek started the car and headed for the vet’s clinic, parking around back out of habit. He started for the back entrance, then redirected because it was regular business hours and he didn’t want Deaton to think something was wrong.

Then again, Derek showing up at all might make him think something was wrong anyway. Though Stiles had probably informed him of what was going on, so he doubted it.

Walking into the clinic, he nodded awkwardly to the two women sitting in the waiting room. One had a dog, that growled and snarled in Derek’s direction, and the other had a parakeet that flapped its wings and started screeching.

Derek had no idea how Scott worked there every day. He could only assume Scott flashed his Alpha eyes at the animals and snarled for them to behave. It usually worked, but was probably hard to do with customers around.

“Ah, Derek.”

He turned to the counter, Deaton exiting the back room and pulling off a pair of rubber gloves.

“Right on time.”

Derek doubted that, but he wandered over anyway, hands shoved in his pockets. “Stiles leave something for me here?”

“He did,” Deaton said with a smile, then bent down. When he straightened, he was holding a small bamboo plant with a note taped to the side of the glass jar the shoots were in.

Derek cocked an eyebrow, but Deaton just kept smiling mysteriously at him so Derek took the plant and nodded his thanks. He left as quickly as he could, mostly so he wouldn’t turn and snarl at the stupid dog that wouldn’t stop barking.

Once he was back in his car, he set the plant down on the floor on the passenger side so it wouldn’t get damaged, and wondered what a welcome mat and a plant had to do with anything.

Unfolding the note, he read it over a few times and let out a deep sigh, rubbing at his eyes with one hand.

“Dammit, Stiles.”

_The scariest, creepiest, most intimidating person you’ve ever met O_O_

“I really, _really_ don’t want to visit your dad on our anniversary,” he muttered.

But, he doubted Stiles was talking about Peter, so Derek obediently started the car and headed down to the station. When he walked in, Parrish greeted him with a bright smile on his face and a slap on the back before heading out. Derek just walked up to the receptionist and discovered the sheriff wasn’t working.

It was still early in the morning, and Derek didn’t want to wake him, so he went home to drop off the welcome mat and the plant, grabbing himself another coffee before heading out again. It was closer to eleven by then, so he felt a little less guilty about knocking on the Stilinski’s front door.

Evidently, he needn’t have worried, because the man was fully dressed and looked like he’d been up for hours.

“Derek. Come on in.” He patted Derek’s shoulder once and then turned to move into the house, Derek following him.

When they passed the living room, the sheriff motioned for him to go and wait there, then disappeared upstairs.

Derek obeyed, sitting down uncomfortably on the couch and wondering what the hell was going on. Sure, trying to find Stiles was kind of fun, but he didn’t really get all the weird things he was being given, and he really hoped whatever was coming next from his dad wasn’t going to have the man shoot him.

They were on fairly good terms now, but Derek had still been shot by the guy more times than he’d like. And there were often discussions of weapons and shovels whenever they were alone together and he talked about Derek hurting his son.

Derek would never hurt Stiles, but he understood where the sheriff was coming from. Didn’t make him any less terrifying, though.

He turned to the living room entrance when the sheriff returned. He was holding a small bag from Bed, Bath and Beyond, along with another note.

“Should I be concerned?” Derek asked, getting to his feet and hesitantly taking the bag.

“You know Stiles,” the sheriff said with a fond smile. “Always has to make everything a big deal.”

Derek let out a small laugh and pulled open the bag so he could see what was in it.

He honestly wasn’t entirely sure he got it. It was one of those bathroom sets, with cups, a toothbrush holder, and a soap holder. It was black ceramic with gold patterns, and Derek thought they actually looked quite nice.

He figured maybe Stiles wanted him to spruce his place up a little bit. New things for the bathroom, new welcome mat, a plant. It was all very nice, but he hoped his real present by the end of the night was Stiles, because he would be a little annoyed if he didn’t get his boyfriend back by the time he went to bed.

When he closed the bag up once more, the sheriff held out the next clue and he sighed, taking it and unfolding it. Thankfully, this one he already knew and he bid the sheriff a good day before heading back to the diner.

It was still before noon, but he’d had his breakfast early enough that he figured the wait for his food would take him to exactly lunch time.

The same waitress was there when he walked in and she smiled brightly at him before leading him to a booth in the back and leaving to put his usual order in. He was so distracted watching the foot traffic outside that it wasn’t until the waitress set down a glass of water for him that he realized there was a wrapped package in the empty seat across from him.

He could already tell that it was a painting, so he stood to unwrap it and found the next clue sharpied on the front of the brown paper.

_Still completely uncalled for. You probably destroyed so many braincells._

“Okay, now you’re just being mean,” Derek muttered, carefully ripping the clue off the painting and pocketing it. Then he unwrapped the entire thing, eyebrows rising slightly.

It was a large, beautiful painting of a wolf. It was standing on a cliff with the night sky behind it, howling up at the full moon. It was stunning, and Derek smiled a little, imagining Stiles being a romantic sap and having bought it because it reminded him of Derek. Even the wolf was the same shade as him.

“Beautiful painting,” the waitress said when she returned with his food.

“Yeah. Stiles got it for me.”

“I know, honey.” She smiled and set his food down. “Mighty sweet, what he’s doing for you today.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know where I can _find_ him, would you?” he asked, smiling a little. “I’d kind of been planning on spending my anniversary _with_ him as opposed to chasing clues about him around town.”

“I’m sure you’ll see him soon.” She winked. “Enjoy your lunch, it’s been paid for.”

“Thanks.” He figured Stiles had assumed he’d get his usual meal, which would make it easy to pay for. That, or maybe he’d called earlier and the waitress had confirmed Derek had dropped in early and said he’d have his usual.

Derek ate while staring at his next clue, trying to determine what something _this vague_ could possibly be. Most of the clues so far were from their first year of knowing one another, so he had to dig deep for that one. He wasn’t entirely sure he was right, but he suspected it might have something to do with the time he’d slammed his head against the steering wheel of his Jeep.

Or, the first time he’d ever done that. Derek had admittedly done that many times, though with less force than the first time because back then, he’d kind of hated Stiles. It was weird to think of a time he’d ever hated him, but it existed.

Derek headed for the hospital, parking outside and hoping that he wasn’t wrong because this was definitely not a place to waste anyone’s time. He walked through the main door, looking around, and then moved to find a nurse’s station. He could only think of one person in the place that he should be seeing, so when he finally found someone to speak to, he asked if Melissa was free.

As it turned out, he’d arrived right at the beginning of her shift so she was, in fact, free. She gave him a hug, which was appreciated, but also a bit weird, and then handed him a note along with an electric corkscrew.

Derek stared at it, wondering if it was an innuendo of some kind, because he and Stiles didn’t drink wine. Derek didn’t see the point of it, and Stiles had never shown any interest in wine before.

“Is there something I should know?” Derek asked slowly, glancing at Melissa.

She just smiled, patted his cheek, and told him that if he broke Stiles’ heart, she was going to break his knees.

Somehow, it seemed ten times more terrifying coming from her than it had anyone else who’d ever threatened him, up to and including the sheriff.

With his new clue and gift, Derek exited the hospital and went back to his car, falling behind the wheel and rubbing his face. This was kind of exhausting, if he was honest, but also a little fun. It was like a walk down memory lane. A reminder of where they’d started and how far they’d come.

When he opened the next clue, he frowned, because it wasn’t a clue at all, but instructions.

_Go to your music playlist and find the song that doesn’t belong._

“What?” Had Stiles downloaded a song to his phone or something?

Pulling it out, Derek went to his pathetically small music collection and began scrolling through all the songs. He had to go through the list twice before he spotted one he didn’t recognize, mostly because he’d started zoning out the first time around.

There was a song called _Paralyzer_ by Finger Eleven on his list, but he didn’t remember that song. He concluded that was the one Stiles was referring to.

While he was fairly certain he knew the next clue, considering there was one particular event between them that they still talked about more often than not, he listened to the song anyway, just out of curiosity. It was good. Kind of catchy.

He let it play while he drove towards the high school, checking the time on the dash since classes were still in session. He didn’t think anyone would be at the pool right now, though, unless Finstock had changed the schedule for the semester.

The halls were quiet when Derek wandered through them, but the closer he got to the gym, the more noise he heard. It sounded like they were playing basketball, but when he opened the door, he could hear Finstock laughing maniacally and saw people dodging errant balls being thrown every which way.

Dodgeball, apparently. Some things never changed.

He was about to start heading for the pool, since he wasn’t sure who to talk to about a clue, when someone shouted his name.

“Hale!”

Derek started, focussing back on Finstock, and saw the man speed walking towards him with a plastic bag in one hand. He looked the same as he always did, hyped up on coffee and annoyed about everything.

“You made it. Good. I was getting tired of playing gopher.” He thrust the bag at him. “Tell Bilinski I’m not his secretary, will ya? Kid’s got a weird sense of humour.”

“Sure, Coach.” Derek tried not to smile, because he could tell Finstock missed Stiles being around. If nothing else, at least Stiles always kept him on his toes.

He stuck around for a few minutes, Finstock standing beside him and yelling encouragement as well as laughing at people’s plights. Because that was Finstock, and Derek was glad the years of bullshit in Beacon Hills hadn’t changed him.

When the game was over and the bell rang, Derek thanked him before he headed out. He got back to the car before opening the bag and frowned a little when he pulled out a toaster. It was still in the box, and while Derek knew he didn’t have one, he also didn’t feel like they ate a lot of toast.

Maybe Stiles wanted to eat more toast?

He didn’t dwell on it, he just dug around for the next clue. It wasn’t so much a clue as it was a statement and Derek rolled his eyes.

_Oh Alpha, my Alpha._

“Cute.” He started the car and headed back for the clinic. Scott was probably done classes by now and likely at work.

Stiles was paying Derek back for all the gas he’d been using throughout the day.

When he walked back into the clinic, Scott was behind the counter. He glanced up when Derek walked in and balked a little, checking the time.

“Wait, are you here for me or Deaton?”

Derek held up the clue and Scott cursed, rubbing the back of his head.

“He was uh, hoping it’d take you a bit longer. He was sure some of them would stump you for a while. You’ve not meant to reach me until five so that you guys can have dinner together.”

Checking his phone, Derek saw it was just past three, which meant he was two hours ahead of schedule. He could only assume the last clue was his dinner invite, and while he was eager to see Stiles since he hadn’t seen him literally _all day_ , he didn’t want to ruin the fun.

“Just give me the last clue and I’ll hold onto it until five,” Derek said, holding out his hand. “I won’t read it until then.”

Scott eyed him suspiciously, but after a few seconds he sighed and pulled an envelope out of his pocket, holding it out to Derek.

It was heavy, like it had something other than just paper in it, but Scott gave him a look before letting the envelope go completely.

“He worked really hard on this. Don’t ruin it for him, okay?”

“I won’t.”

Scott released the envelope and Derek nodded a thanks to him before leaving.

The next clue was burning a hole in his pocket, he wanted to look at it so badly, but he’d promised Scott he wouldn’t. And it wasn’t so much his promise to Scott that made him resist, but the fact that Stiles had planned this day out in a manner he wanted. Derek didn’t want to take that away from him.

So, he headed home and sat down watching TV, trying not to think about the note in his pocket and the missing body sitting beside him. He checked the time constantly, sometimes doing so often enough that not even a minute would’ve gone by.

Finally, mercifully, his phone proclaimed that it was exactly five and he hastily pulled the note out, ripping the envelope open and looking inside.

As usual, there was a note, but there was also a set of keys. Derek frowned in confusion, pulling them out and staring at them. They weren’t familiar, so he wasn’t sure what they were for. One was rather large, and the other a little smaller. Like a house key.

Derek pulled the note out next for some context. All it had was an address, and beneath it, in small print, it said, _Bring the presents - though maybe not the painting, that can wait._

Not needing to be told twice, Derek grabbed the bag with the toaster in it and proceeded to pile the other items into both that bag and the Bed, Bath and Beyond bag. Once he had everything, he headed back to his car and set everything down on the floor on the passenger side. Then he pulled the note back out to check the address.

It wasn’t far from his loft, so he eased onto the road and began driving, keeping an eye on the street signs since it wasn’t an area he was super familiar with. Reaching the correct street, he turned and made his way down the busy road, glancing at the numbers over all the shops.

There were a few apartment buildings interspersed and eventually Derek parked in an empty spot a block down from the address on the sheet of paper. He stared at the building in his rear-view mirror, not sure he understood. His heart was pounding again, but his brain was having trouble catching up.

Climbing out of the car, he grabbed the bags from the other side and then shut and locked the Camaro. Walking towards the building, he stopped outside the door, glancing at the buzzer that boasted five apartments in the large structure.

Hesitating, he pulled the note back out to re-read the address, making sure it was correct.

It was. The apartment number was four, so Derek assumed that meant the apartment on the fourth floor.

Pulling the keys out, he used the big one to get through the front door, and then shut it behind himself. He climbed a few steps to a large lobby, moving up to the elevator and pressing the ‘up’ button. Once it arrived, he pressed the fourth floor, and waited. Once the doors opened, he stepped out into the corridor and saw there was only one apartment. It looked like there was legitimately only one apartment per floor, which made sense since the building itself wasn’t very big.

Moving up to the door, he fiddled with the keys to get the smaller one in his hand, and then unlocked the door. When he pushed it open, it smelled like Stiles. Not overwhelmingly, but enough that he’d been around the apartment for a while. A few days, at least.

Derek didn’t understand what this meant, and he was actually getting a little nervous.

“Stiles?” he called, walking into the apartment and shutting the door behind him.

Stiles appeared at the end of the corridor, looking nervous, but excited, hands clenched together tightly.

“Congratulations. You found me.”

It felt like entirely too long since he’d seen Stiles and he moved forward quickly, the hand holding the keys moving up to the back of his neck and pulling him forward, kissing him lingeringly. He pressed his forehead against Stiles’ once he’d recharged, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.

“That was both fun and really depressing. I wanted to spend the day with you.”

“I know. But I wanted to do something special.” Stiles still smelled like nerves and Derek pulled his forehead back, hand still at his neck, and frowned.

“What’s going on? What is this place?” He looked around. It was empty, their voices echoing, but it was really nice. Modern, with wooden floors, quartz counters, large windows that overlooked the streets below. Considering the road they were on, it was actually really quiet.

“Why are we here?” Derek asked, looking back at Stiles.

He looked even more nervous than he had a moment ago, stepping away from Derek and rubbing at his face with one hand.

“Okay, so, hear me out,” he said, one hand moving up to rake through his dishevelled hair. “It’s not that I don’t like the loft, because I do,” Stiles blurted out. “I really do.”

Derek stared at him, not sure where he was going with this. He tried not to panic, because Stiles was nervous, and if Derek started panicking they’d probably end up fighting, so he forced himself to calm down and just listen to Stiles ramble.

He began to pace, avoiding Derek’s eye and wringing his hands together. “I like the loft, okay, I do. The thing is... with the loft... I mean, it’s _your_ place, you know?” He glanced at Derek briefly out of the corner of his eye, then away again. “I just show up and stay over for days on end. And you can’t really come to mine, because it’s my dad’s house, and it’s like, my childhood home and it’s weird having you in my room now that we’re adults. So we always stay at the loft, but it’s, you know, _your_ place. It’s not _our_ place. So I was just...” Stiles trailed off, licking his lips and raking a hand through his hair again, pacing increasing in speed. “I thought maybe we could, you know, _get_ one. You and me. A place. One that can be _our_ place.” He turned to Derek, wringing his hands together but not looking at him, eyes focussed somewhere to his left. “So, uh, so what do you think?”

Derek stared at him for a long while, feeling Stiles’ anxiety beginning to mount the longer he stayed silent. It suddenly occurred to him what he’d been receiving all day. Housewarming gifts. Stiles had gone out and bought a bunch of things that were considered housewarming gifts. Because he wanted to get a place together. He wanted to _live_ with Derek in a capacity that wasn’t just him having a drawer in Derek’s room, and some spare toiletries in the bathroom.

He wanted a place where they were both there _together_. With _all_ of their things in a shared space. Where they didn’t share _Derek’s_ bed but _their_ bed.

“Okay, so, it’s not official so we can just—it’s fine, really,” Stiles said quickly, words stumbling over each other and the air turning sour with rejection. “I told the landlady that it might not pan out, so I can just call her and—”

Derek closed the distance between them and almost dropped the bags he was holding. He managed not to at the last second, remembering there were breakable items in them, and grabbed Stiles’ face with his free hand, pulling him forward for another kiss.

It took a second for Stiles to melt into it, hands coming up to grip the front of Derek’s shirt tightly before they pulled apart, his eyes opening slowly.

“I would love to live with you,” Derek said, smiling. “I think this is a great idea.”

“Really?” Stiles’ earlier insecurity slowly began to melt away, the air a little less sour and more hopeful and happy. “I tried to find a place close to work for both of us, and it’s not far from the loft in case we ever need to have a pow-wow or something. I made sure there were lots of exits, so we have escape routes, it’s on the fourth floor so we’re safe from most beasts coming through the windows, and there’s two bedrooms so that we can have an office for all of our researching needs.”

Derek fucking loved this man.

“Sounds perfect.” Derek kissed his forehead. “Show me around?”

Stiles grinned and grabbed the bags from him, setting them down by the closest wall and grabbing Derek’s hand, bringing him around the apartment excitedly. It was all very bright, but Stiles said they’d been given a green light to paint if they wanted to.

He explained that the lease was signed by the landlady and himself, but that it was in the kitchen waiting for Derek’s signature because it wouldn’t be official unless he agreed to it. He also said the woman had originally been looking to sell, but Stiles had talked her into renting, which meant if they _really_ liked it, when Stiles had a bit more money, they could buy it and officially own their _own_ place.

Derek just smiled while Stiles chatted excitedly, dragging him from room to room and explaining all the ideas he had for furniture and paintings. Some items they would be taking from the loft—most items, really, since Stiles didn’t have any furniture—but some things Stiles wanted to go out and buy so that it could be _their_ things.

He was still talking excitedly about it when they locked up an hour later, the signed lease tucked in Stiles’ messenger bag and their fingers linked together while they headed for the elevator to go to dinner.

When they entered the lift, Derek leaned over and interrupted Stiles mid-sentence, kissing him softly once more. When he pulled back, Stiles had a startled, but not unpleasant, look on his face before he smiled.

“What was that for?”

“You know what that was for,” Derek insisted, smiling at him. “Happy anniversary.”

Stiles positively _beamed_ and Derek felt like he couldn’t possibly ever have been happier than in this moment.

Maybe Derek didn’t believe in mates because it was all stupid Werewolf mythology, but if he _did_ have a mate, he thought he would be happy knowing that he’d gotten a pretty great one. Having Stiles Stilinski as a mate was definitely not the worst thing to have happened to him.

Quite the contrary, actually.

Mates were starting to look pretty good.

**END.**

**Author's Note:**

> Star Wars (c) George Lucas  
> Paralyzer (c) Finger Eleven
> 
> Come chill with me on [Tumblr](https://isthatbloodonhisshirt.tumblr.com/).  
> (If it still exists by the time you read this lol)


End file.
